


Breaks Never Caught Part II

by weavetatter



Series: Breaks Never Caught [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Brotherhood, Friendship, Gen, Medical Inaccuracies, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weavetatter/pseuds/weavetatter





	

Two hours later, Dean stood aside, watching as Dr. Amann examined his brother. By this point, Roman's coughing was fairly frequent and had become more productive.

Finally, the doctor sat back and looked at them both seriously. "Without a chest x-ray, I can't be one hundred percent certain, but I'm ninety-nine percent sure you've got pneumonia, Roman, and it's pretty bad. I'm gonna have to pull you off the roster."

Dean was stunned. He'd thought pneumonia was a possibility, but hadn't actually expected to be right.

Roman, on the other hand, was miserable enough not to be surprised, and simply nodded. "How long, doc?"

"At least two weeks, and possibly longer. I'm sorry, son. Pneumonia isn't something you want to take chances with. I'm going to prescribe some cough medicine for you, an expectorant, the strongest one currently available. It'll thin the congestion in your lungs, make it easier to cough up so your lungs aren't working so hard. There's codeine in it, so no driving while you're taking it. I wouldn't advise drinking milk or any dairy either; it tends to make the congestion worse. I'll also prescribe an antibiotic, and some prescription strength Tylenol."

"Got it."

Dr. Amann nodded. "I'll let Stephanie, Hunter, and Mick know. You get some rest. I'll get the prescriptions filled for you and bring them back. Get some sleep, Roman."

Dean followed the doctor out of the hotel suite and into the hallway. "How bad is it, doc? Really?"

Dr. Amann sighed and met Dean's eyes with a level look of his own. "It isn't good, Dean. He's exhausted, and that's what gave illness a foothold. It's very important that Roman rests, or it could get worse."

Dean nodded. "I'll take care of it, doc. You think you can get me pulled from the roster too? I'll get him home, keep an eye on him."

"I'll see to it."

With a businesslike nod, Dr. Amann left, and Dean went back into the suite, poking his head into his big brother's room. Roman was coughing again, but he was asleep, and Dean backed out of the room quietly. He had calls to make.

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

An hour later, Dr. Amann handed Dean a bottle of tiny, amber, translucent pills. Dean eyed them, then the doctor. "This is the cough medicine? It don't look like no cough medicine I've ever seen. I was expecting a liquid kinda thing."

"That's the cough medicine. This bottle is the Tylenol with codeine, for the fever and to help him rest." The doctor handed him another bottle. "I've pulled you from the roster for two weeks too. Keep an eye on Roman."

Dean thanked him and walked him to the door, finding Raw's general manager, Mick Foley, about to knock.

"Ah, Dean, Dr. Amann...I came to see how Roman was," the big man said. "I got the memo that he'd been pulled from the roster. Pneumonia, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, pneumonia," Dean replied. "Roman's sleeping right now, but I can tell you he ain't feeling too good. He's real congested, coughing a lot."

"Mick," Dr. Amann interjected, "I was just telling Dean that this isn't good. Roman is _very_ sick. Two weeks is the minimum time he'll be out of action, but it could very easily become longer. Both lungs are involved here."

Mick frowned with concern. "I didn't realize he was that sick. Is he gonna be okay?"

"Ultimately, yes...if he gets the rest he needs, I'm hopeful."

"Hopeful?" Dean pounced on the word, looking at the doctor. "Whaddaya mean, 'hopeful'?"

Amann sighed. "This is pneumonia, Dean. It's a serious illness. I can't give you any definitive answers."

"But?"

"But Roman is physically fit; he'll most likely recover fully if he rests, takes the meds, and follows medical advice."

"Oh, he will," Dean said grimly. Amann allowed himself a small smile.

"I hope so," he said. "I'm still waiting for the antibiotics to be dispensed. They're to prevent secondary infection. I'll get them here as soon as they're available, then you can get him home."

Amann left, and Mick turned to Dean. "Have a safe trip, and let Roman know I hope he's feeling better soon." He smiled at Dean's carefully blank expression. "I don't have a problem with Roman, Dean. I promise, I'm not his enemy."

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

The next visitor, however, _was_ an enemy. Dean leapt for the door before the pounding could wake Roman, and found himself staring in angry shock at Seth Rollins.

"Oh, fantastic. I might've known I'd find _you_ here," Rollins muttered. "Still hanging on Roman's coattails, huh?"

Dean closed the door at his back, grateful his older brother was asleep. There would be bloodshed otherwise, and as sick as Roman was, there was no telling whose blood it would be. "What are you doing here, you little pissant? Whaddaya want? How'd you even find us?"

Rollins gave a mocking laugh. "Why, Steph, of course! Amann had to put where you were in his report. And to answer your first two questions, I came to see that coward Reigns. I don't know how you convinced Amann to falsify--"

" _Falsify?_ " Seeing red, Dean opened the door of the suite. "Just stand here, shutup, and listen for a minute."

Rollins waited about fifteen seconds. "What am I supposed to be listening for, Ambrose? I don't hear--"

Roman started to cough. In the hour since the doctor and Mick Foley had left, the cough had settled deeper in Roman's chest and become even more productive. He didn't sound good, and Rollins had paled. Dean quietly closed the door again. "That's _after_ I've dosed him with two heavy-duty prescriptions, Rollins. You should've heard him without medication. Trust me, this is better. So don't come here accusing my brother of cowardice, all right, because that's just you talkin' out of your ass. Roman's never been afraid of you, and never had to be. He's kicked your ass a thousand times, you Justin Bieber wannabe. Why would he suddenly fear you now?"

Every word true. Roman wasn't called "the Big Dog" and "the Powerhouse" for no reason. At 6'3", 265 pounds, Roman was easily one of the biggest men in the WWE. He was a solid wall of muscle. He not only ran the yard, he owned it, and if Seth Rollins gave a damn about his own life expectancy at all, he'd best get used to that fact. Whatever he had, he had it because Rome _let_ him have it. Piss Roman off enough, as Dean had reason to recall, and there were very few people who could handle him. It was business as usual for Rome's temper to simmer just under the surface at the _best_ of times, and the big Samoan generally kept an iron control over it. But Roman sick, or Roman exhausted quadrupled the chance of his losing his temper. If you were in range when he detonated, well...

"He's really sick," Rollins said, in tones of dawning realization. "Are you taking him home?"

"Dafuq do _you_ care?" Dean snapped. "He's got me. He don't need you, and you don't have any place in his personal life, 'cept maybe as a footnote. Go away, Rollins. I don't need you any more than Rome does."

The shot hit home, he saw, but he didn't have time to gloat over it; he was desperate to get Rollins out of here, before Roman woke up and came looking for him. Dean was an inch taller than his older brother, but only eight pounds heavier than Rollins' own 217, which left him forty pounds lighter than the Big Dog. If Roman set eyes on Rollins right now, there wouldn't be a thing Dean could do to stop the fight. If Roman wasn't so sick, Dean would be certain of that fight's outcome. Rollins would be smeared all over the floor, to say the least. But Roman _was_ sick, so there was no telling how it would go.

"Foley said he has pneumonia," Seth was saying. "Is it true?"

"Yes, dammit, now would you leave?!"

"Look, believe it or not, I care--"

Dean very nearly exploded himself. "Don't you dare. Don't you _dare_ try to tell me you care about Roman _or_ me. Two years ago, you broke this family to join the _Authority_ , and damn near broke our backs while you were at it. You couldn't just _leave_ , oh, no, you had to bloody us too! A year ago, you curb-stomped Roman into the ground to steal the championship from him. You've done everything you can to make our lives hell since then. No one wants your explanations, Rollins. Nobody wants to talk to you. We just want you gone. If you can't do that, then at least leave Roman alone while he's sick. Give him that much peace."

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

Seth left the hotel feeling stunned. He'd never have expected Dean to be so protective of Roman. Everyone knew that Roman took his role as protector seriously, but Dean? Dean was the wild one, the lunatic fringe. No one expected that from him. Not outside the ring. When they were the Shield, Dean and Roman had been at each other's throats more often than not, each of them closer to Seth than to each other. Apparently Seth's betrayal had accomplished the one thing he'd been unable to do while part of the Shield: it had brought Roman and Dean closer.

Seth also hadn't expected to discover Roman so sick, or to realize that he was worried about the Powerhouse. They hadn't spoken to each other outside of the ring in more than two years. Seth was surprised to find that he missed the easy camaraderie he'd shared with them. Too late for that now; they had closed ranks against him. He was an outsider now...a footnote, as Dean had said.

There was no camaraderie in the Authority, and no one he actually trusted. No kicking back with a beer to watch the game together after an exhausting night.

He found himself wondering if it had all been worth it. He'd betrayed Roman and Dean, his brothers, for the sake of a belt and a title he no longer held. Roman had carried it next, and now Dean, and neither of them had betrayed the other to get it. Both of them had been genuinely happy for the other. And had Seth not handled things the way he had, he was sure they would have been happy for him too.

No. Getting the belt hadn't been worth the loss of his brothers.


End file.
